


In Andraste's Shadow

by Drasalau



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23097364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drasalau/pseuds/Drasalau
Summary: The impending conflict between mages and Templars leads the Divine to call a Divine Conclave in an effort to resolve the matter before things turn ugly. A massive explosion in the middle of the night tears apart the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The lone survivor in the devastation has no memory of the events preceding his awakening. He only knows that he went from being a borderline no-name minor son to the Inquisitor of Andraste.But walking beneath the banner of the Maker's Bride is no easy task and not everyone would be suited to such a momentous honor.
Relationships: Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus
Kudos: 1





	In Andraste's Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> I preface this work with a warning that it will be an active work of undetermined length to fill my emotional void. It will be updated with tags and such as needed.  
> A great many thanks to my beta reader [StarChild_23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarChild_23/pseuds/StarChild_23). I look forward to their battering criticism in the many chapters to come.   
> 

The fire in the hearth crackled loudly against the pressing silence of the sparse room. Ten years of refurbishment had not removed the spiritual stains that seemed etched into the very stonework of the Temple and there was a sense of something being in the air at all times. Perhaps, it was just his imagination, but it was hard to shake the feeling of “otherness” about it. 

Zander was not too fond of his sleeping arrangements in that mountain temple. It could very well be called spartan if one looked at the bare essentials crammed into the closet-like room. It was a temple resurrected for those eager to undergo pilgrimage to holy sites; it was meant to be austere. 

His distaste came not from the simple — but functional — furniture. It came from the uncomfortable and ever pressing sensation that there were too many noisy people all around with questionable morals in the holy site and a plethora of dubious characters running about. He wished he had been asked to pitch a tent with the other soldiers that had accompanied their delegation rather than be obligated to take a pilgrim's cell as befitted his rank and association to high ranking families. 

It was getting late. As such, there was an exponential decrease in the number of people congregating in the hallways. The quieting of footsteps was the last sign that Zander needed to escape the confines of the quiet cell and seek the refreshing mountain air. The air felt tight around him as it carried all the tense emotions of everyone gathered at the Temple. 

Few people milled about besides a few of the night owls of the Chantry and the many representatives come for the summit. There were a great many Grey Wardens about, but that was the only notable thing. It wasn’t even that remarkable; Grey Wardens were hardly in short supply.

His path from the inner cloisters of pilgrim quarters was simple, emerging into the grand entry hall of the Temple. New tapestries hung from the walls with their woven threads still bright and richly colored. Zander spared a momentary glance at the sun rays of Andraste. The sight did not soothe him as he had hoped. So many mages in one place set him on edge, especially with Templars ready to start a fight among them.

The collapse of the Circles had sent everyone scrambling like headless chickens. His family was not immune to the distinct ripples of panic that spread from the explosive chaos. Ostwick's Circle may have been one of the least volatile collections of mages, but that did not make it any less concerned. Bann Trevelyan decided that his youngest son would accompany his sister, cousins, and other notable noble offspring to the Divine Conclave.

Instead of thinking about the impending chaos, Zander found himself trying to count the number of flags he saw on his way through the field of tents. Grand banners displayed the heraldry of the many representatives. Yet, beneath those marks of nobility and prestige, unease, fear, and distrust made the air thick. It made everything sour with the too many bodies in the Temple’s courtyard. In daylight hours, those who milled about glanced around with shifty eyes that suggested wariness. At night, it was eerily quiet. 

Torches flickered as the cold breeze blew through the tents, sending the smell of smoke wafting through the air. It was colder in the mountains by far than it had been at home, regardless of the season. It was alien, it was different, and he enjoyed it. 

Zander stood at the vista, leaning on the short stone wall that protected wanderers in the night from wandering straight off the cliff. There was little light around beyond the campfires and torches. It was a rustic image, one he had not thought would have been quite as enjoyable as it happened to be. 

Yet, he was too out of sorts to fully savor the moment and the beautiful scenery around him. Had he been there to do anything other than try to help avoid a chaotic war he might have found it to be quite idyllic even. 

“Can’t sleep, Lord Trevelyan?” said a feminine voice behind him. 

Zander turned about, hand on the pommel of the longsword attached to his hip. A melodic chuckle rippled from the shadows as the heart-shaped face of a woman not much older than himself appeared. 

“Maker, Andrea, don’t do that,” he sighed, removing his hand from the hilt. He glared at her mildly, though there was no real malice in his frowning face. 

“Apologies. I didn’t realize you would be so jumpy.” The woman, Andrea, chuckled again as she joined him at the wall. 

Zander eyed her as she leaned forward a little, her long braid of straw-colored hair dangled somewhat over her shoulder as she peered into the valley. Her face, even in profile, was still so familiar to him, despite time’s onward march. His gaze did not shift when her eye flicked to him. Andrea straightened, raising a brow at him.

“What? Can’t I enjoy the view?” she asked, almost coyly, as she leaned on the wall with an arm. Her posturing ceased when she noticed that her stance was not eliciting the response that she had expected. Annoyance, irritation, and playful mockery had all been her expectations. She had not been prepared for the melancholy man standing in front of her. 

Andrea straightened somewhat, leaning more naturally against the wall as she waited for an explanation. Zander had never been the type to succumb to malaise, so it was obvious that not all was well with the youngest Trevelyan offspring. 

“It’s just strange, that’s all,” he replied blithely, turning his attention to the vista once more. He crossed his arms and settled his elbows on the wall. “It’s not often that we’re outside of Ostwick, let alone simultaneously.” He casually flicked a loose stone off the wall. Its soft clattering as it fell down the side of the cliff wall was faint and brief. 

“True,” was her slow, simple reply. Zander seemed out of sorts, which made the woman hesitate somewhat. It was like trying to decide whether or not to poke the bear. As much wisdom as she had gained in her years at the Circle, she still fought her better judgement. Yet, it was hard to read him; it always had been. 

The two of them let the silence drag for a moment. There was a faint hooting of owls in the distance but otherwise all they could hear was the slight crackling of nearby fires and the trees creaking in the breeze. 

“I’m sorry, by the way,” Andrea said, suddenly. Zander looked up at her quizzically. She met his gaze and pulled a face. “About what happened at the last Wintersend we both attended,” she added, noticing his confusion. His face darkened instantly and he quickly looked away to hide the stormy expression. Not that it mattered when she had already seen it. 

“It’s in the past,” he replied blandly, without a drop of emotion in his voice. Naturally, it meant that he had quite a bit of emotion on the subject. Zander may have had the most control over himself, but that did not mean he had no tells. 

Andrea furrowed her brows at him as she reached out a hand to his shoulder. Zander did not recoil or jerk away sharply, but he did slowly move away from her touch as though to look more closely in the opposite direction. Her hand hung in the air a moment before returning to the wall, as though it had never been risen in the first place. She did not hide the look of hurt.

“I don’t know why you won’t talk to me about it. It’s not like I didn’t know about any of it.”

“Leave it alone, Andrea,” he said sharply. Andrea looked somewhat shocked at the sudden shift in his tone. Her widened eyes spoke volumes as he sighed, absently brushing his fingers through his neatly cropped hair. Loose strands fell into his eyes and he was forced to ruffle everything back into place. He was so visibly frazzled. “Please. It’s over and done with. I really wish you would stop bringing it up every time I see you. I don’t need to talk about it.” 

Zander walked away from the wall and the undeniably gorgeous view. 

“Please don’t walk away,” she muttered, but her voice still carried to him. The man paused, his back to her as she took her short steps toward him. She put her hand on his arm, clasping at his wrists. “Please, don’t. I’m sorry I brought it up. I can’t help it. I just worry about you since I know you won’t talk to anyone. Gabriel told me you’ve been spending more time with the guards, living like you’re a common soldier, Zander.” 

He did not meet her gaze, looking away. Andrea tilted her head and forced her face into his field of view. “We are on a dangerous precipice. We’re looking at war and destruction on a massive scale. What will we do if we can’t even be at peace within our own families, Zander?”

Andrea reached to grasp his face in her two hands, as gentle as always. Zander tensed for a moment before softening against her touch, rattling out a long sigh. 

“I’m not looking to fight with you, Andrea. It just has to be left alone and in the past, where it ought to stay. It’s better this way,” he said. He reached for her hands and pulled them from his face; it was cold the moment her warm palm parted. It was like they were both young again, trying to bolster one another up. “I don’t want to talk about it because it’s my own fault for letting things get that far and not asking all the right questions. But I think it was for the best, I really do.” He gave her a weak smile, but it was a smile nonetheless. 

Andrea looked quite skeptical, though. “I swear to Andraste that if you’re bullshitting right now, I’m going to freeze all your bathwater for the next month.” 

Zander laughed and they both visibly relaxed as his laughter echoed in the silent camps. 

“And I’ll put worms in your breakfast porridge,” he promised, elbowing her slightly. 

“You mean like that time you insisted you didn’t but Celia said she watched you do it?”

“Absolutely not like the time I insisted I didn’t - because I didn’t - and Ceclia said she watched me do it, but she couldn’t have because I didn’t.” Zander grinned. “But yes, just like that.”

“Ugh, you’re as much a kid now as you were then, I swear,” she said with an audible rolling of her eyes.

“I think I’m a bit taller than I was then.”

“Only a little.”

Zander still felt that heaviness on his chest. Yet, there was nothing to be done about that. He had been tense and preoccupied since they left Ostwick with the retinue. Andrea was doing her best to cheer him up, but he could see that she was just as concerned as he was about the state of things. Still, he had to appreciate her trying. He certainly wasn’t doing a good job of it on his own.

“Come on, let’s go. We’ll have an early morning.” Andrea put her arm into his elbow, tugging him toward the Temple. Zander chuckled as he pulled his arm free of her grasp. 

“Later, Andrea. I’ll come by with wine or biscuits and we can gossip about what’s-his-name, Mark? Meryk? I can’t keep track anymore,” he added loudly as she gave him a completely disgusted groan. “Either pick a guy with a name that doesn’t start the same or focus on something academic.” Andrea rolled her eyes yet again. 

“It better be good wine. None of that stuff from the south. Good Antivan, or so help me those frozen baths will be for three months.” 

“Maker, you are so high maintenance. Thank Andraste we don’t need to find you a suitor.” He smirked. 

“Absolutely thank Andraste for that miracle.” She dramatically flipped her hair as she started to turn about. “Don’t stay up too late, though. I’ve got a weird feeling about tonight.” She waved at him as she disappeared back into the shadows, just as she had appeared earlier. 

Zander stared at the space she occupied moments earlier, rolling her last words around in his head. Weird feeling? So it wasn’t just him. It bothered him a little that his mage sister had the same feeling as him. 

He rolled his shoulders, rubbing the spot that was still somewhat sore from a practice spar the day prior. He gave the vista a lingering stare, locking the serenity into his memory. It was a good memory despite everything else happening around him; he wanted to preserve it as best as he could. 

In a blink, Zander turned around to return to the camp and the Temple, unable to shake the weird feeling that lingered. He walked through the silent camps and the crickets that chirped despite the cold weather. He felt no eyes on him as he paused at the main doorway, staring at the sea of tents without a single face turned toward him. Quiet. 

It would have been a quick walk to the common room where Andrea was likely to be waiting for him with the bottle of Antivan wine she had demanded him to bring. Yet, a strange scuffling noise and a sound too much like a muffled yell made him stop where two hallways intersected. He furrowed his brow in the direction of the larger room and the distinct lack of guard presence. With a quick glance to where his sister waited, he moved decisively toward the other room.

It couldn’t hurt to just check it out. 


End file.
